Flames Over Tumladen
by Lydwina Marie
Summary: Caewyn did not flee Gondolin with the Lady Idril. Instead she remained to fight, and in the bloodshed and death she found life, and love, and so much more.
1. Chapter One: Betrayed

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but my OCs. Hmph. -_-

 **A/N:** This was originally written as an extra-credit story for my first fanfic ever – a 600 page thriller. (Yeah, right.) This was pretty rotten back then, but I edited it a good bit and I think it's fairly passable now.

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter One**

Betrayal

Eamrös stood upon the high walls of Gondolin, and looked out across the wide green plains beyond. The sun was sinking into the west in a flame of crimson and gold, kindling the white walls of the city as the great orb of light dipped slowly beneath the high peaks of the Encircling Mountains. The bright grasses of Tumladen shimmered as emeralds touched with fire, and everywhere upon the sward white flowers like stars sprang up in the dusk. A wonderful joy smote him as he looked out over the walls, and his mind returned to the day when he had first gazed upon the Hidden City.

It had been in times long gone, when a darkness and a shadow lay heavy over the land. Orcs had overrun and burned a small settlement of Elves at the Havens of Sirion, and the unscathed Elves had been taken to Angband, doomed to toil in endless slavery and thraldom under Morgoth's unyielding rule.

He, and a few others, had escaped at last from the dark dungeons of Angband and fled from Morgoth's reach. In the midst of his lonely wanderings thence he had found himself beneath the lofty peaks of the mountains, and gazing in wonder upon the glorious city that lay behind them. _Gondolin,_ they had named it – 'hidden city' – and the Elves had shown him mercy and taken him in.

Suddenly there was a murmur of surprise from the Elves about him. A scarlet light had risen above the Northern Echoriath, growing brighter as it blotted out the stars. Eamrös stared in wonder at the light even as voice began to whisper in awe. Some said it was Arien, rising even above Angband for the banishment of Melkor's darkness, and that she came as a sign of renewed hope to the Gondolindrim. Others said nay, and many were uneasy. But the red glow faded at last from the dusky sky, and the discomfort of the Elves was lost as night fell deeply upon the city.

As Eamrös stood in the shadows amid the ranks of his house, a gentle voice spoke suddenly at his shoulder.

"Blest be the white city which concealed you from the darkness and brought you safely to me!"

Eamrös turned, seeing that his sister stood beside him, dressed in a gown of deep green like the fields of Tumladen in the spring. Her dark hair tossed in the gentle breeze, shining with an underlying tint of red-gold, and the bright eyes which regarded him with loving joy were blue-green as the sea.

"Eäryendë, _venimelda,_ " he said, smiling upon her. "May the Valar look upon our city as they gazed upon me in my sorrow, and delivered me from all my grief!" Catching up a lock of her long hair, he wove it through his fingers before releasing it to the gentle wind. With a laugh, Eäryendë lifted her brother's hand and placed her own in his strong palm, and together they looked out towards the east.

The wind of summer-eve caught Eamrös's ebony hair as he stood upon the Eastern Walls, but he felt only joy and contentment. His sister stood proud and tall at his side, and he served a valiant lord and a mighty king. His eyes shone, for a hope had returned to him that seldom touched the cursed who had beheld the deep places of Morgoth's realm. The scars he bore, both physical and emotional, from his captivity had not faded, and there were Elves of his house, such as his cousin Cebrindil, who would never be wholly free again. Many avoided Cebrindil, uncomfortable around the sober Elf and his dark broodings, but Eamrös did not shun his cousin as did the others. He knew all too well the pain Cebrindil had endured, and the shadow that lay over his heart still. Without the tender love of Eäryendë, the bitter wounds that had been inflicted upon his spirit would never have been healed.

* * *

Caewyn, of the royal line of Turgon, wandered throughout the House of Kings, gazing upon the banners and tapestries that adorned the walls. They were all very beautiful, but one in particular caught her eye. This tapestry hung opposite her, over the golden throne at the end of the hall. The rays of the fading sun snatched away the brilliant colour of the other embroideries, and the images disappeared, but this one did not fade. In the gathering darkness its fine threads shone, and Caewyn saw that it showed Idril and Tuor standing upon the green glades about Gondolin, their hands joined, and the wind caught in their mingling hair. A bright light surrounded them, and the freshly-budded trees rained down white blossoms at their feet. But against the brilliant scarlet of the dawning sky glittered an iridescent star, glowing like fire in the empty sky.

Caewyn's eyes flew from the dimming tapestry, her heart thudding in her chest as she sensed a subtle difference in the air.

Something strange... something evil.

The maiden turned and fled from the room, down the long hall, and out through an archway onto the western walls beyond. She could hear the mournful sound of a lone harp weaving its sad tale, far away, like the wisp of an echoing song. The sky was clear and star-bright, unmarred in its loveliness by any cloud, but against the horizon, flames flickered red beneath the mountains. The fire had reappeared, burning high as it enveloped completely the eastern sky. Caewyn's eye was drawn immediately to it, the cold hand of fear clutching at her heart. Her dark blue cloak was wrapped tightly about her by the rising wind, carrying upon it fell voices of evil.

Trembling, afraid, Caewyn stood there yet for a time, golden hair streaming about her, her deep blue eyes searching out over the Echoriath as she strove to find some difference in the air. But only the insidious red glow signified that some change had been made.

Now a fear and a foreboding rose in her heart, and she turned away. The city was silent beneath the stars, but such a quietness was not welcome to her ears. She could hear nothing. It was not right, she fretted, and the worry in her eyes grew.

The flames flickered over the dark mountaintops. A faint crash echoed through the air, and Caewyn whirled. A cry rang in her ears from the city below, and then there was the sound of running feet in the corridor behind her. She turned to see many Elves girding themselves with weapons and armour, and she ran towards them.

"Eámanë!" She caught at her brother's hand, but he pulled her through the archway and into the hallway beyond.

"Caewyn!" he cried in surprise. "Why do you linger?"

"What is happening?" she begged him. "What is the flame?"

"You must flee, sister!" Eámanë's eyes flashed dark and angry. "The might of Angband has been unleashed! We have been betrayed!" He tugged on her arm, drawing her deeper behind him into the relative safety of the corridor. "To the secret passageway, Caewyn – Lady Idril awaits you there!"

 _Betrayed?_

By whom?

"Run, Caewyn," her brother was saying earnestly, his hands gentle but firm upon her shoulders. "Hurry..."

A desperate yell reached their ears. "They approach the city!"

Caewyn gazed into her brother's eyes, anxious and sorrowing. She saw the love and loyalty he bore for his home, and felt that same love rising within herself. And she knew she could not flee. She could not run from her home. She could not leave her father and brother to die alone.

"Please, Caewyn..."

Without turning to look back, Caewyn wrenched her shoulders from his grasp and fled down the hallway towards the secret passage, hearing the sound of booted feet pounding upon the floor as the ellyn left. She made her way through nigh-abandoned halls until she reached the wide corridor leading to the secret doorway. But she was unable to follow that path for long. Many Elven maidens ran towards and past her, leading terrified elflings by the hand, and she flattened herself against the wall to allow them to pass. The door stood open ahead... she could see the dark tunnel, the twisting turns that led at last to open plains far from the city.

Safety. But not for her.

With a deep breath, the elleth pushed herself off the wall and turned to leave.

"Lady Caewyn!"

She turned hurriedly as a young maiden ran up behind her, gripping her arm tightly. "The passage is back there!"

Caewyn nodded briefly, smiling lightly into the girl's face. _"Iston."_

"Then why... _oh._ " The elleth's face paled as she realised the other Elf's intent. "You surely cannot be intending to fight? For you shall surely be slain!"

"Then I shall be proud to die as one of the Gondolindrim!" replied Caewyn, her eyes flashing. But then her voice softened. "Forgive me, my friend. Save yourself! I wish to die, if so the Valar wish, between my father and brother, who fight to protect our fair city."

"Do not do this! Caewyn, please!" the elleth begged, fingers still tightly gripping Caewyn's sleeve. "Your lot is not to die at the hands of those fiends. Come to the passage and flee with us!"

She was touched by the girl's love, but no... her duty was to one whose hold was far greater. Pulling her arm free, Caewyn pushed her on down the hallway. The elleth's friends had fled, not waiting for her. "Go on," she ordered gently. "If the Valar wish for us to meet again, we shall. Until then, _namárië_!"

Stifling a sob, the young maiden stumbled down the hallway, not looking back. Caewyn did not stir from her position until the girl passed around the corner and, with a last glance back, disappeared from her sight.

* * *

 **Elvish Translations:**

 _Venimelda_ – fair maiden

 _Gondolin_ – in Sindarin, this means "song of stone". But I have taken it to mean "hidden city", because _gond_ = rock, and _dolen_ = hidden.

 _Iston –_ I know.


	2. Chapter Two: Gondolin's Fate

**Disclaimer:** Again, I own nothing but my OCs.

 **A/N:** Thanks to everyone who followed, favourited, and reviewed the last chapter! I appreciate it so much!

Also, I mention a legion in military terms in this chapter. In my view of things, this stands for about five thousand warriors, so that should give a general idea of the number of Orcs.

* * *

 _Recap_ _: Caewyn did not stir from her position until the girl passed around the corner and, with a last glance back, disappeared from her sight._

Now Caewyn did not wait an instant. Taking a deep breath, she ran in the opposite direction, towards the armoury. But soon she realised she had no time. Vambraces and leg guards had always looked the same to her, and all she knew was that the helmet went on her head. _Valar!_ she cursed. For one trained in sparring since her youngest years, she appeared much like a fumbling adolescent as she stared at the armour hung neatly on the walls. She snatched up a sword – one of the few weapons she knew how to wield – and left, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Now she ran swiftly towards the eastern walls, buckling her sheath to her belt as she did so. The city was silent but for the tinkling laugh of a windchime far off, as the rising breeze caught it. The halls were abandoned, her light footsteps the only sound.

She rounded a corner and came out onto the walls, running straight into the midst of the gathering Elves. Her brother stood there also, his back to her, but when he heard the incredulous murmurs he turned.

"Caewyn! What are..." She silenced him with a look.

"I am fighting."

* * *

Eamrös thrust his protesting sister gently into the passageway, his face tensed.

"Eamrös, please! I can fight!" Eäryendë begged.

Her brother sighed. "No, muinthel. You will be safe with the Lady Idril – go to her; she will need your help with the young ones." Eäryendë's face scrunched up as she prepared to object, but Eamrös did not give her time. "You will be safe, I promise! Now go." He kissed her swiftly, then watched regretfully as she disappeared into the inky darkness. If only she knew how hard it was to send her off to a nameless fate! The long trek across the plains would bring the fleeing Elves into cursed Morgoth's sight, but they would escape. He knew it in his heart, for surely the Valar would not be so cruel as to tear his sister from his side, leaving him alone in the dismal emptiness of his life.

Eäryendë had vanished in the shadows. With a sigh, Eamrös pushed the door shut and smoothed the tapestry down over it. He could hear faint cries; the Orcs approached Gondolin.

He turned and ran back down, joining the other Elves on the walls. There was a score at least of warriors assembled there, standing proudly in the dimming light and the glow of the moon; but fear lurked in the eyes of many. Eamrös moved swiftly to the front of the line and looked out over the causeway.

A dark shadow had spread over Tumladen, casting the green grasses into darkness and crushing the fair flowers. The enemy came, on wings, it seemed, for they moved hastily, spreading themselves wide before the silent city ahead.

"Caleldir!" he called to the captain. "How many?"

The captain's face was cold in the twilight. "Nigh on a full legion, the scouts say."

Eamrös's eyes skimmed the approaching invaders below. A legion – aye, so he would have estimated. But surely the strength of their own forces would be enough to repel the Orcs? Again he regarded the faces of the Elves, pale in the gathering darkness. Then his gaze fell on one slender figure, standing alone and off to the side, and his eyes narrowed.

"Caewyn?" he asked, moving over to her side. She did not respond, keeping her head stubbornly down.

"Fighting?" he tried again, his voice unintentionally curt. Her eyes flashed, but she delivered him an abrupt nod all the same.

"Get some armour." It was an order from a superior to a novice, he told himself. He did not care how she took his words, as long as he knew she would at least be protected in some way. But he did not expect her to round on him, eyes gleaming angrily as she glared at him.

"You do not think ellyth can fight at all, do you!"

Eamrös's eyes narrowed to mere slits, and he did not respond.

"I saw how you sent your sister into the passageway – where I was supposed to be – simply because she is a woman." Caewyn's voice was angry yet low, but even so he could he could feel the Elves' stares against his back. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Eámanë, Caewyn's brother, move forward, but he stayed the ellon with a flick of his hand.

"I did no such thing, Caewyn." His voice was cold. "I am very much aware, contrary to what you think, that my sister can fight rather better than some. I would not say better than most, for that would be untrue." The frigid glint in his eye softened as he thought again of Eäryendë's frightened face. "Would you like to know why I sent her away?"

"Tell me." Caewyn regarded him with a stubborn glare, throwing the words at him like a mockery.

"I sent her away because I _love_ her!" Eamrös hissed. "Do you know how it feels to lie alone, alone and awake, in the darkness of fear and evil, trembling as your friends are dragged away, never knowing if you will be next?"

The anger in Caewyn's blue eyes receded, replaced with horror and shame, but Eamrös did not see it. "Or..." His voice trembled with pent-up worry, with grief – with fear, a desperate terror. "Or, imagine lying mortally injured upon a bloody battlefield, alone, wishing only for death to free you from the pain!"

A fell howl rent the air, terrible in its lust and greedy hunger.

"And then, put your brother in your place. Your father, your sister, your mother... people you love, people you would die to protect from harm. Suffering, dying – and you could have saved them if you tried."

Her hand was on his sleeve, she was begging him to stop, but he shook her off and backed away.

"That is why I fight." His voice was naught but a tired whisper. "And that is why I sent her away."

He turned his back, trying to control the tremors in his hands. He had made himself openly vulnerable, he knew, but somehow he could not bring himself to care.

Suddenly there came a loud cry from the lower levels of the city. "Balrogs! Glaurung! Death has come upon us!"

Immediately all was pandemonium throughout the doomed city. All could see plainly the foul creatures piling on the foothills of the Northern Echoriath, and the ground trembled beneath their weight.

"To the King's Square!" Caleldir yelled. "It is hopeless to try to hold the city behind walls!"

The Elves turned and hurried through the halls, joined by several more armed warriors on the way. Eamrös paused for a moment, gazing at the starlit sky, awaiting the dawn.

The sun would not rise that morn.

The night darkness surrounded him, stifling him, and he ducked under the white archway and was lost to view.

* * *

Caewyn was among the last to flee from the great porch of Gondolin. She could not tear her eyes from the horrible sight of Morgoth's forces pouring down the valley towards her beloved city. But then gentle hands caught her shoulders, pulling her along with the rest, and Caewyn grasped her brother's hand and ran through the hallways.

The great domes of the palace gave way at last to the open terraces and gardens. Bright fountains flashed and glittered in the night, casting up their foamy spray towards the stars, but the Elves did not see them. A burning fire was in the sky, spreading through the clouded heavens, and shouts and cries of terror broke the night's stillness.

Caewyn could never remember fully what happened next. A great crash echoed through the air, and then there was smoke, so much smoke, and it _hurt_. She could not see, she was panicking, for her brother's hand had left hers, and as the dust cleared slowly she realised she was alone.

"Eámanë!" she cried aloud in desperation. "Eámanë, where are you!"

No answering call reached her ears, and Caewyn leaned wearily against the pillar of an abandoned house. Perhaps Eamrös had been right, she admitted at last. She was not a warrior, born for deeds of great renown. She was but a simple soul bearing a sword, alone and afraid.

She did not know where she was, but she wandered alone through smoke and cries from afar, until she found herself standing before the house of Turgon. The white stone towered above her, but she did not stop to think, running through the doorway into the empty house. Clumsy in the darkness, she fumbled about, tripping on inanimate objects, until she came out onto a wide deck. All was black and still about her, but as she glanced towards the sky, she saw that Elbereth hovered directly above her, the fiery light of the star lighting her surroundings.

"Ai, Elbereth!" gasped Caewyn, and as if in answer the star shone out brighter for a moment, casting a sudden ray of light upon a doorway across the terrace. Beyond it was darkness, and fire.

A kindled arrow shot suddenly above the heights of the white pinnacle, burning for an instant like a red star amid the fumes ere it fell.

"Namárië..." Caewyn whispered, and, turning from all that she loved, passed beneath the high arch of Turgon's house and plunged into the darkness beyond.


	3. Chapter Three: Gondolin Overrun

**A/N:** Hi everyone! I just wanted to leave a quick note with this chapter. Real life has caught up with me, and I won't be able to write as much anymore. I am sorry about this tragical turn of events, but my family is moving, we have a ton of personal commitments, and I probably shouldn't mention that I haven't been inspired to write much lately... (Now that is tragical.) So, I will see you all sometime – but in the meantime, thanks loads for your support!

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

Gondolin Overrun

Hours had inched by. Slow, tedious hours, and the last stand of the Gondolindrim had passed – bitter fighting had taken its toll upon both the defenders and the invaders, and many lives had been lost. The Elves under Caleldir had stubbornly maintained their defences at the Gate, and great were the Orcs' losses there, but the Elves had suffered as well. Out upon the causeway and the battlefield the bodies were strewn, left to rot or be pecked at by the wheeling vultures, but it was only the Orcs that were touched. The Valar protected the bodies of the Elves who had fallen that day, and no harm marred them, their faces glorious and beautiful in death. Rain fell, bathing them tenderly, but no mud rose about them; only white flowers upon the grasses of bloodstained Tumladen.

But there was no such flowery bier for the Orcs – mud oozed up around their bodies, and they gave off a great stench, hideous in their death throes. No mercy was to be given to them, for they did not go to the Houses of Mandos, but suffered torment in the darkness eternally.

* * *

Caewyn made her way through the ruined gates, guided by Elbereth's light. But at the edge of the battlefield even that star failed, and the elleth stood and gazed upon hatred, and bloodshed, and death.

She found it easy to wield her sword, though the dimness of early dawn hampered her, and it was difficult to distinguish friend from foe. The sun rose, a light and a taunt as it casts its rays over the bloody sward. A dark smoke arose from the city, and flames leaped even from the heights of the pinnacle of Turgon. Caewyn coughed, her eyes smarting from the thick fog, and stumbled as she paused to lean on her sword. About her the cries, the screams, the dreadful sounds of death went on – for death is a cruel taskmaster, and it will never be satisfied. Hazy figures whirled past like shadowy blurs through the mist, the clash of sword upon sword fading and faint.

"Ai, Eru," she whispered, her throat parched and aching. "Light, I beg you!"

As if in answer to her plea the fog lifted, the smoke spreading from burning Gondolin clearing somewhat, and now Caewyn could fully see the destruction of the white city. The entire eastern wall was in flames, the once-mighty gate collapsed in ruins, and the road was scattered with running figures – Orcs or Elves, she could not tell. A few tears rose to her eyes. Where was Eámanë? She had not seen her brother since their separation in the King's Square; she could not even be sure he had made it out of the city.

A harsh snarl sounded behind her, and with a sharp intake of breath Caewyn whirled to face the Orc and its blade. Driven by rage, she drove it backwards, meeting blow for blow, a fey light in her eye, until it stumbled and fell. Then she smiled, coldly.

 _So much death._

And she would make this creature pay.

But as she raised her sword, she saw another Orc plunging towards her, a hungry light gleaming in its eyes. She lowered her blade, stumbling back with a low cry as she braced herself for its attack. It was a fearsome creature, all sneer and blade and great, clutching hands, with the clinging mist flying about it like a wraith, and Caewyn gazed about desperately, praying for some saviour. But the Orc would have her, and no other. The elleth cut a graceful figure in the rising dawn, with her shining sword that she wielded swiftly and well, and her dress swirled unhampered about her. Never before had such a prize stood upon a field of battle, and the Orc's eyes glittered ferally. It bore down upon her, taking pleasure in the fear tainting the pale features.

 _Fear. The air is rank with it._

It glowed in the eyes of the cornered Orc, twisting and writhing and bleeding on the ground. It shone, mixed with determination and a desperate hope, on Caewyn's face.

"Now, you die."

Her breath caught in her throat. The voice was ominous, seeming to stem from one more evil than the Orc itself, and Caewyn simply stood there, her golden hair blowing about her shoulders, but in her heart was a desperate hope.

"If you want my life," she said softly, straightening and standing proudly, "give me yours!"

The Orc sprang forward with a growl of rage, but Caewyn deflected the blow from its dirk and sprang lightly aside. The next time, though, she was not so lucky: as she met its swing, her blade slipped with the force of the blow, and the Orc's sword gashed her shoulder. Caewyn gasped with the pain, raising a hand to grip weakly at her shoulder. The wound was not especially serious, but it hampered her, and her strength ebbed with the fast flow of blood. The Orc swung again, and she tried only weakly to duck the blow. It grazed her hip, dragging painfully down her side until the brunt of it caught her on the leg. The blade met the bone, audibly snapping it.

All she could see was the blood about her, staining the grass, and still the cries went on...

As she fell, Caewyn glimpsed a light in the coming dawn, and Eamrös came running, wielding a glittering sword. The flash of angry dark eyes caught hers and held them, until she lapsed into unconsciousness.

* * *

The next thing she knew, something was disturbing the rushing darkness, and the dull throbbing in her shoulder had flared to life again. A hand was shaking her, gentle yet forceful, and sharp stabbing pains were running up and down her leg. Her eyes fluttered open at last to see an ellon's worried face leaning above her, but his expression filled with relief as she responded to his urgent shaking.

"You were lying a little too still for comfort, I thought," a strained voice whispered.

"Eamrös?" Her tongue barely responded to her bidding, and the name came out slurred and uncertain. Nevertheless a smile spread over his face, born of relief and gladness.

"You put up a good fight, but I still think he was a little much for you," he said softly, moving her tangled hair to the side to inspect her sluggishly-bleeding shoulder. Caewyn cringed as chilly air met overheated skin, clenching her teeth to keep them from chattering.

"You are angry with me... aren't you..."

"No, Caewyn." His voice was gentle. "I am not angry."

"Why?" She drew in a gulp of air, struggling to breathe through the newly-awakened pain as Eamrös's hand slid down her leg. "I deserve it..."

"Hush," he soothed, a few lines creasing his forehead as he took in the torn skin and snapped bone. "I am sorry, Caewyn, but this is going to hurt."

Caewyn drew in another painful breath, uncertain of what he was going to do, but fearful all the same. Then it escaped her in a gasp as gentle arms slipped beneath her, cradling her carefully against a strong chest.

"Eamrös!" she gasped, shivering controlling her again as pain shot through her. "Oh Valar..." She hid her face against his shoulder, letting out a soft, muffled cry as he took the first step.

Caewyn never forgot that agonising run through the stricken field westward. She had a vague idea where Eamrös was going: a small cave, hidden beyond the hill-fells of Tumladen. She had come across it in her wanderings one day, and, tiptoeing inside, had been startled out of her wits by a furious yell. Eamrös had stood there, in the mouth of the cave behind her, glaring, his eyes dark and cold. Once she swore to keep it a secret, he had calmed, and even let her stay for a while. She had never returned after that day, afraid to risk his anger once more.

The sky whirled overhead, cloudy and grey with impending storm, and Caewyn closed her eyes, suddenly dizzy. Eamrös's reassuring words came to her through a blur of pain and exhaustion, and finally she stopped even trying to make sense of what he said.

At last the rocks of the high fells rose up about them, and Eamrös breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Caewyn was pale and limp in his arms, and she had stopped responding entirely, which worried him. The elleth was well-known for her talkativeness and wit throughout Gondolin, and to see her so silent was upsetting.

He glanced back once at the smoking city. A deadly silence hung over the field and the walls, but as he raised his eyes towards the sky, he saw that the azure banner of Turgon had been torn down. In its place streamed a ragged tatter of red and black cloth, snatched aloft by the rising wind. A foul smell permeated the air and was carried on the wind towards them, and with a wrinkle of his nose, Eamrös stepped swiftly behind the stony outcrop. Gondolin, the fallen city, was hidden from sight, and the clouds wheeled over the land.

With a sigh, Eamrös ducked through the yawning entrance of the cave, laying Caewyn gently down on a few blankets and covering her with another. The elleth's eyelids fluttered as he passed a hand gently over her cheek, but she did not waken fully, and Eamrös frowned as he felt the heat radiating from her pale skin. He glanced around swiftly, eyes flitting from one object to another, and a frown creased his forehead.

"Pitcher... blankets..."

He rose suddenly to his feet and strode to the entrance of the cave, looking carefully about outside. What he saw – or did not see – evidently satisfied him, but the frown had not disappeared when he turned back to Caewyn. A few steps took him unerringly to her side, and he assumed a protective stance as he continued to look around.

" _Rhaich,"_ he cursed under his breath, half-wakening the elleth.

"Eamrös?" came a weak murmur.

The tall Elf swung around, his grey eyes narrowed as he gazed about the cave.

"Someone's been here."


End file.
